


When Varric Met Marian

by fortheloveofhawke



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Modern AU, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-16 23:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7288336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveofhawke/pseuds/fortheloveofhawke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HIMYM AU</p>
<p>Varric has tickets to the game of the year, and no idea how much trouble a silly little Flex-Cam is about to give him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Varric Met Marian

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pushingdaisies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushingdaisies/gifts).



> I was thrilled beyond words to get this prompt. I love HIMYM and this was an absolute joy. Make sure you've seen [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tq3rA6-fN4A) video.
> 
> Thanks to my irl friend who agreed to beta this.

_“Kids,” Varric began, “sit down. I want to tell you a story.”_

_“Are we in trouble?” Malcolm whined, slumped on the couch with his phone inches from his face._

_“Yeah, is this gonna take long?” Ilsa said dismissively, already looking longingly at the door._

_“No and yes,” he answered them respectively. “I want to tell you two the story of how I met your mother.”_

_The kids glanced at each other, rolled their eyes, and sunk back unhappily on the couch._

_“It was twenty years ago. I had just graduated from college and was working as editor of Kirkwall’s biggest paper. Your Aunt Isabela and I were at a Kirkwall vs. Starkhaven game…”_  

The stadium was full to bursting with Kirkwall’s citizens, all eager to watch what was sure to be another victory against their neighboring city-state. Varric had gotten tickets from work and, needing company, sought out Isabela, who was eager to watch from somewhere south of the nosebleeds. Plus there was beer, and Isabela supplied them with the first few rounds to pay for her ticket. 

Varric’s stuffy old roommate, Sebastian, was several rows in front of them; Varric grumbled internally, wondering how the Chantry brother had gotten better seats than him. He had assumed Sebastian would return to Starkhaven after graduation, but alas, he had decided to stay and join the Kirkwall Chantry. He claimed that he’d seen more people that needed his help here, which may or may not have been impacted by the year he and Varric were assigned roommates at college. Varric’s attempts to scare the guy away had grown increasingly wilder over the two semesters, and had probably led to Sebastian believing that all of Kirkwall’s citizens were rakish troublemakers. It was never enough, though, and ultimately Varric had to hand it to the guy; he stuck around and continued accepting invitations to go out for drinks and cards despite questioning the moral standing of Varric and his friends. 

_“If he was that annoying why didn’t you just move out?” Malcolm interrupted._

_“Why didn’t I move out?” Varric was briefly taken out of the reverie, mouth turned down impatiently. “Well, it was the dorm closest to the coffee shop, and when you’re pulling all-nighters four times a week that’s considered prime real estate.” And Varric’s initial roommate, Anders, had pulled out at the last minute to study abroad in Tevinter, so he’d had to suck it up and tolerate Sebastian’s proselytizing for a year to appease his caffeine addiction._

Isabela periodically threw popcorn down at Sebastian’s perfectly coiffed hair whenever Starkhaven got the ball. 

“Boo!” she called down, chucking more of her very expensive snack down. 

“Isabela!” Sebastian sounded shocked at her behavior, as if he _weren’t_ used to being harassed by the woman. “Is that really necessary?” 

“Starkhaven’s going down!” Isabela shouted, standing and goading the surrounding Kirkwall fans into a chant that was far less tame. 

“There’s no need to act like heathens,” Sebastian grumbled, sinking further into his seat and brushing popcorn out of his hair. 

He had brought Fenris, one of Varric and Isabela’s regular drinking buddies, who apparently enjoyed discussing religious theory in his spare time. Everyone had their flaws, Varric supposed. Fenris sat bemused beside Sebastian, leaning to the side whenever a fresh barrage of popcorn came down. He and Isabela exchanged more than a few moments of significant eye contact, and Varric wondered if _that_ had been the deciding factor in Isabela’s acceptance of his extra ticket. He shrugged, cackled, and held out his own bag of popcorn to his companion. She sat with a satisfied grin and took him up on the offer. 

Ah, yes. Then there was Isabela. She had dropped out her second semester to sail around the world and never re-enrolled. Enough companies had sponsored her that she wouldn’t have to worry about rent for a long time, but that didn’t stop her from sleeping on Varric’s couch for most of his own college career. She had been the driving force behind Sebastian _nearly_ moving out their first semester as roommates; Varric worked right alongside her as each scheme grew crazier than the last. But Sebastian toughed it out and they could never quite get things to escalate more than that time she snuck the goat in. 

_“I never told you kids about the goat? Oh, well it’s a good story. You should ask your Aunt Isabela about it.”_  

“We’re totally going to kick their asses,” Isabela said. “I mean, have you seen Aveline this year? Woman-shaped battering ram. She’s going to plow right through those prissy bastards and I’m going to win a bucket full of sovereigns.” 

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Varric chuckled. “She’ll land you in the drunk tank again.” 

“I’m not betting on _her_ ,” Isabela scoffed. “My money’s all on Cullen getting hit in the face like last year.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Are you seriously surprised?” 

Varric was not. 

The game carried on and, though better than years past, it was still very much looking to be a guaranteed win for Kirkwall. Half-time created a mass-exodus up the stands in search of more food and drinks and brought out the entertainment to keep the rest from rioting in the meantime. 

“ _All right, Messeres and Serahs!_ ” Worthy’s voice boomed through the stadium. “ _Time to show off those muscles with our FLEX-CAM! Get those guns out!_ ” 

The screens began cycling through various spots throughout the stadium where kids and adults alike were enthusiastically standing and rolling up their sleeves. 

“You got lucky it wasn’t a Kiss-Cam this time,” Isabela smirked. 

Varric sighed in relief and heard it echoed in the row behind them. The Kiss-Cam hadn’t worked out as imagined when the Seneschal was caught with a woman other than his wife the previous year. Varric had covered the divorce proceedings in the paper. 

They were both well-lubricated by halftime, and as a result they quickly went from mocking to participating. When the Flex-Cam finally came to them they were more than eager. In a beer-fueled moment of self-possession, Varric coyly pretended to put his arms away—as if his skin tight, v-neck shirt made that even remotely possible—before lifting them. Isabela’s laughter ended her own flexing as she watched him make a fool of himself. After a few moments and some laughter from the crowd, the camera panned to another drunkard and Varric sat back, joining in on Isabela’s mirth. 

After several shots around the stadium the camera came back to them. Varric was having too good a time to refuse, so he stood and raised his arms. People around him laughed as he made a show of kissing his biceps. He felt Isabela shift in her seat to look behind them, but Varric carried on until he glanced at the screen and saw what had made her turn. 

A tall human woman in the row behind them had stood and was taking off her red leather jacket. Her companion, another dark-haired woman, was grinning at him with a decidedly cocky look. Jacket off, the woman held both arms up and they _bulged_. 

Varric was a husky guy—typical build for a dwarf—and though he was built, he wasn’t toned. Four years hunched in front of a computer cranking out papers and lifting nothing heavier than the Hanged Man’s liter beers did that to a guy. He’d never felt _lacking_ , but now he’d have to reexamine that later thanks to the spectacle this woman was making. 

The crowd went wild. Distantly, he heard Isabela’s cheering and applause. He turned—he _had_ to—and stared in disbelief as she turned her attention from the crowd to him and leaned forward, both arms right in front of his face. He still hadn’t quite dropped his own arms yet, though now they were suspended awkwardly with his attention diverted elsewhere. The cockiest, most crooked smile he had ever seen met him as his arms finally dropped to hang somewhere above the crushed remains of his dignity. She bent down further and put one arm just inches from his face—as if somehow he _hadn’t_ noticed them. This brought her own face intimidatingly close to his; close enough that he could hear her laughter, breathy and low, which had previously been drowned out by the crowd, and pick up the gray flecks in her very blue eyes. For a moment, the sounds of the crowd grew distant compared to the thudding of his heart in his chest. Varric felt himself flush—a mix of alcohol, embarrassment, and…was he _aroused?_  

The volume was turned back up and the only response his addled brain could come up with was to shrink back into his seat and pointedly _not_ look at this woman and her skull-crushing arms. Chin in hand, he looked back at the screen and watched as she straightened up again, alternatively lifting her arms up and bringing them back down in front of her to flex for the crowd—the female half of which was enthusiastically screaming. The woman flexed a few more times, grinning wide, before almost shyly tucking a shaggy lock of black hair behind her ear and sitting back down.   

Isabela stood to give her a double high-five, _whoop_ ed, and finished Varric’s beer. She slapped his shoulder good-naturedly. 

“Oh, don’t beat yourself up about it…let _her_ do it!” And with that, she burst into another round of raucous laughter. 

Varric couldn’t even respond. He stared absently at the field, where the teams were lining up again now that halftime had ended. As he sobered up he thought about her face as she mocked him, piercing blue eyes, lopsided smirk, and muscles that even Andraste would have been impressed with. Varric Tethras, editor in chief for the _Kirkwall Tribune_ and the owner of the pen name currently publishing Thedas’s hottest romance serial, was _blushing_. 

The rest of the game was a blur as Varric internally argued with himself, though judging by the crowd’s chants it was going to be another Kirkwall win. At one point there was a huge uproar when one of the Kirkwall players was struck in the face by a ball that was too well-aimed to be accidental. Isabela, however, jumped up and threw Varric’s bag of popcorn at Sebastian’s head with a screech of victory. Alternate Captain Cullen’s face was a bloody mess, and it looked like his lip might scar. One of the Starkhaven players received a red card for deliberately throwing the ball at Cullen and had to be escorted away before Captain Meredith confronted him. Isabela was on her phone confirming her winnings while the rest of the Kirkwall fans jeered. 

The game ended shortly thereafter. Another year, another victory for Kirkwall; one day it would get old, but today was not that day. People began the slow process of filing out of the stadium. Varric realized that the woman had already left, but a flash of red leather caught his eye and he made a decision—he ran after it, calling back to Isabela at the last second. She was talking to Sebastian and Fenris, but idly waved to acknowledge him. 

People grumbled after him as he sprinted through the crowd, banging into several in his pursuit. For a moment he thought to himself that he had missed her, that he had waited too long—but there she was. Fair and intimidating and lovely. 

“Messere!” he shouted. 

She turned, looking down as Varric approached. When she recognized him, her smirk fell easily into place. 

“Oh,” she said. “It’s you. The dwarf who doesn’t lift.” 

Varric was speechless in the wake of her. Shaggy black hair, fair, freckled skin, intense eyes. Her easy demeanor somehow made it even more difficult to form words. She had slung her jacket over a shoulder, collar hooked on two fingers. The sleeveless top underneath only accentuated her toned arms. He meant to respond with something clever to impress her, but his mouth just hung open, brain wracking itself for the ability to speak again, let alone utter something of substance. Instead of anything remotely clever, it came up with— 

“Can I buy you a drink?” 

That finally wiped the smirk off her face and _she_ was the one left speechless for a change. 

“Varric Tethras,” he said, finally remembering how communication worked and extending a hand. “At your service.” 

“Hawke—Marian Hawke,” she stammered, grasping his hand. It was a firm handshake, which shouldn’t have surprised him. She had calloused fingers and he wondered what she did to make them so. “This is my sister, Bethany.” 

Bethany grasped a sign behind her back with one hand— _ATTN KISS CAM: SHE’S MY SISTER—_ and waved with the other. She bounced on her heel and slowly wandered a few steps away. 

“So, drink?” 

“I—um,” Marian said hesitantly. She was still grasping his hand, and a hint of a smile touched her lips when she responded, “Sure. Why not?” 

“Great,” Varric said, trying not to sound as excited as he felt. They hashed out the details of where to meet up and when, Marian gave him her number, and then she left with her sister. She threw him one last curious look over her shoulder before the crowd swallowed her. 

Isabela appeared at his side. 

“She could totally bench me,” she sighed. 

“Watch it, Rivaini. I got her number first.” 

“She could totally bench _both_ of us.” 

“Uh-uh. No way.” Varric stared after Marian for a long moment, until Isabela sighed dramatically and dragged him out of the way. 

_“So that’s when you started going out with Mom?” Ilsa asked, somewhat less disinterested than initially._

_“That’s how I_ met _her,” Varric corrected._

_“You mean there’s more?” Malcolm groaned._

_“First, I need to tell you about our joint business venture,” Varric said, leaning forward. “The Deep Roads…”_

_Ilsa and Malcolm groaned in unison, sitting back on the couch while Varric began anew._

{Bonus} 

Marian started her car, staring blankly at the stadium and waiting for traffic to slow so she could pull out. 

“You okay, Sis?” Bethany asked, tossing the sign in the back seat where it would stay until the next game. 

“Did you see his chest?” she said absently. 

“Uh, I guess. It was pretty hard to miss. I mean, that shirt had to have been two sizes too small.” Bethany took a sip of her drink. “He had a lot of hair.” 

“Mm,” Marian hummed, still staring into space. 

Another moment of silence passed between the two as the stream of cars slowed and Bethany took another sip. 

“I’m gonna motorboat it.” 

Bethany sprayed her drink across the windshield.


End file.
